


Fearfully Inadequate

by NightWings (Kiliann)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Confession, Dean is a butt, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Sammy is adorable as usual, but a lovable butt, some blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3546776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiliann/pseuds/NightWings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hunting with the Winchesters was like jogging with Olympic runners. You just slowed them both down while they let you keep up with them. It's hard to feel like such a burden, constantly feeling pitied and inadequate. Especially when the one person who's most important to you is looking at you like you're someone to be shielded instead of an equal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fearfully Inadequate

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story to publish on the archive! It's certainly not the first story I've written and put on the internet, but I'm putting myself out there just the same. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and please let me know what I can do better. Fluff is something I'm still working on. :) Enjoy!

"Do you think we're safe?" you asked, wincing at the nervousness that crept into your voice. Now they'd think you were just as good as every other victim. Rain pounded on the roof of the motel, and you were thankful there wasn't any thunder or lightening to make you even jumpier.

"Hey, don't worry. We're fine. The salt will keep them out, and we're not even sure there are any out there." The soft tone of Dean's voice told you that yeah, they thought you were just a terrified young girl. You wanted to scream, but that wasn't going to do you any good. It'd just make your throat even more raw than it already was.

"Sorry. I'm sure it will—I'm just so inexperienced. I don't even know why I'm here in the first place." You closed your eyes again and wished that perhaps the cheap hotel bed you were sitting on might collapse and swallow you.

Sam moved a little closer next to you, and you wished even harder as the lingering terror mingled with the newly emerging butterflies. You were so stupid, stupid, stupid, and you had to be stuck here where surely something was going to play out. "You were just possessed by a demon, (f/n). I-it's alright to be scared."

"I'm not scared." You set your lips in a hard line. Quickly, your eyes darted to his for a fleeting second. His face was concerned, and you wondered if there was pity mixed with the uneasiness in his eyes. He was concerned about you—and you hated every moment of it.

The older of the brothers cleared his throat. "Don't be silly, (f/n)—you're shaking, you won't look at us, and you've barely said anything since we got back. You're scared. I mean, who wouldn't be—"

Dean was cut off mid-sentence by Sam, "Stop it, Dean. She's upset, alright?"

"I'm certainly a liability, aren't I? I'm just always putting everyone or myself in danger because I suck at hunting." Your voice was under control and you were going to keep it that way.

"Why—"

"I came with you guys to try and practice this, Sam. I've got one hell of a nasty scar from some bitch-face demon that got me when I was 17, and I aim to make up for the time I wasn't hunting between now and then. But I'm no good at it. It... it just kind of sucks because I feel like you guys have to watch my back all the time. Sorry. Rant over. Emotions under control." You kicked off your slightly bloody tennis shoes and pulled your knees up to your chest on the bed, a comforting position you found to be comfortable.

The room was quiet for a while. You wouldn't meet their eyes—Dean was right. You were scared. But they weren't, and they'd been through so much worse. You were just a scared little girl, you supposed. The feeling of the horrible spirit controlling you was so revolting and nauseating that you just really didn't want to think about it.

An arm slid hesitantly over your shoulders, and you glanced up again. "(F/n), being scared isn't what shows how talented you are. I don't know anyone who would keep going after everything you've been through. You have no idea how good of a hunter you are—you've been out of practice for 8 years and you're still nearly as good as some of the best. And even the best have to be scared to stay alive. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of."

Sam looked down and nearly pulled his arm away, but you leaned into him, shivering. With a little more confidence, he pulled you closer as you squeezed your eyes shut. Conflicting emotions of nervous happiness and anguish raged inside you, and you didn't have any time to process the fact that Sam was closer than you'd ever thought he might be because you needed to make certain that tears weren't going to burst through your dam. It made you angry that your fear made you feel so weak. Sam's words were true, you knew, but when you were afraid you felt so powerless. It was infuriating and, quite frankly, overwhelming in your tired and defeated state.

"Shh, what's wrong?" At Sam's soft concern, you nearly broke.

"S-so you guys don't think I'm a burden?" The words you'd blurted nearly surprised you, but you knew you'd spoken a little of the truth. While having nothing to do with fear, another thing that left you feeling powerless was hindering a mission or being useless, which you felt happened a lot more than it should. 

What startled you was when Sam suddenly pulled back and cupped your face in his hands.

"Tell me, (f/n)— why would you think that?" There was genuine hurt in his face, and you weren't sure why you hadn't seen it earlier. In a moment of clarity, you sensed a deep care and compassion in his face that somehow you'd never seen before. Just as you'd seen it, though, it was gone, and you cursed your stupid feelings for being so damn hopeful.

"B-because I'm so much weaker, and I slow you guys down... and... I don't know. I feel inadequate most of the time." You wished you could hang your head and stop looking the boy you loved directly in the face. You didn't want to watch him nod in agreement or look disappointed or do any of the things you could already imagine in the array of his facial features. What you didn't expect was for Sam to pull you closer and capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

Your eyes were wide for a moment, thoughts racing through your mind before everything went fuzzy, and you forgot everything except for the fact that you were kissing Sam Winchester. His lips were softer and warmer than you'd thought they'd be. They fit together with yours as you let him guide you through the incredibly sweet kiss, and you hadn't realized you'd closed your eyes until they slowly opened as you broke away for air.

"You are the furthest thing from inadequate. Actually, you're the most amazing girl I know. So... so please don't say things like that about yourself." Sam looked at you almost pleadingly, and suddenly you wanted to apologize for hurting him even if you weren't completely sure what you'd done. You felt dizzy, like maybe perhaps the stories about love and things were a little true after all. It was a little silly to admit, but you weren't quite sure what you'd been saying earlier. A strange giddy feeling replaced most of the anxiety you knew you were supposed to be feeling.

Dean cleared his throat, and you whipped around, expecting him to say something annoyingly snarky. However, he just smirked and said, "Finally. I've been waiting for weeks."

"Get the hell out, Dean." The older of the brothers laughed.

"I was just leaving, little brother. Have fun." The door closed behind Dean, leaving you slightly flustered and very close to Sam on the small twin mattress.

"Did you—I mean, do you... you like me?" You felt heat rush to your face and suddenly you were back to wishing the mattress would collapse and swallow you whole again. Events were taking a very different and extremely awkward turn. Why had you even asked that? Hadn't he just told you? And dammit, you had blood streaked across your face.

Sam flushed a light pink. "Dean told me it was obvious. You mean you didn't know?" Recovering very quickly from the shock of this pleasant revelation, your lips tugged at the corners.

"You mean you listened to Dean?" You grinned, tucking a strand of slightly sweaty hair behind your ear. "Well, knowing me, I don't really catch on to anything regarding these things, so you're pretty safe there."

"Well, uh, I do. I like you a lot."

"I like me a lot, too," you agreed, poking him in the shoulder. "And you," you added hastily, "I... I like you. Too." 

Crap. Crap. What had you done. You gritted your teeth, wringing your hands to try and cope with the complete and utter awkwardness of your very intelligent-sounding statements.

But it seemed Sam didn't care about your awful tendencies to make things freaking uncomfortable.

"Good," he smiled, and bravely pulled you in for another kiss. Happier and more relaxed than you'd been in ages, you let your arms wrap around his neck and your hands tangle in his slightly messy hair like you'd wanted to do for a long time. You let out a soft sigh and melted into him, letting him hold you. 

You could feel him tense a little before relaxing and tugging you nearer to his chest, lightly rubbing your back in comforting circles. You placed one hand gently on his chest, the other still mingling in his hair, and ran your tongue lightly over his lips. He parted them, letting his own tongue slowly venture its way into your mouth, and you gave a moan of approval.

"Hey, just a sec, I need to grab my—uh, nope, never mind, I can go without an umbrella." Dean left just as quickly as he'd opened the door, and you burst into tired giggles at the crimson blush that had spread over Sam's face.

"Your—your face, a-and Dean, oh my gosh, a-and th-then..." You dissolved into a fit of laughter brought on by a sudden wave of exhaustion that demon-hunting usually brought on. You weren't forming coherent sentences and you knew it.

Once Sam had recovered from the mortifying shock of Dean walking in on you, he bent down to lift you off the floor where you had collapsed in a wave of giggling. A tear traced down your cheek and you snorted, which made you laugh harder. "I'm s-sorry, but it was so f-funny! A-and... and Dean... and y-you..." Sam just grinned and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to his side where you nestled happily into his chest.

You took a few deep breaths and finally recovered from the laughter. "S-sorry about that." You yawned and snuggled a little closer. "But it was pretty funny."

"N-no it wasn't," Sam mumbled. "Dean'll never let me live it down."

"He'll forget about it in a week," you murmured, "and if he doesn't, he might not live to never let you live it down..." You trailed off into a smirk and felt Sam laugh a little behind you.

A comfortable silence fell between you and Sam as the rain battered the windows and the roof. You felt yourself starting to doze, in a state of half-awake bliss you hadn't thought possible after recently being possessed. Love was interesting, you thought vaguely.

"G'night, Sammy. Sweet dreams," you mumbled. He tensed slightly, almost protesting against your use of the nickname but deciding against it.

"Good night, (f/n)."

 

When Dean came back an hour later, he found the both of you asleep on the astonishingly small twin mattress. Marveling at both of your skills of falling asleep just about anywhere, he turned off the lights and vowed to make Sam as uncomfortable as possible about this in the days to come; until you threatened to slit his throat, of course, which was inevitable.


End file.
